One Flew Over the Bifrost
by Penelope Lane
Summary: Both Loki and Elsa are sent to a mental institution to deal with their issues. What will happen when these two meet? Will they break out and take the world by an icy storm? Told in a diary/journal format. Hilarity will ensure? World: AU, obv, Post Avengers, Middle of Frozen.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Plot bunny just jumped out and scared me. Woo, that was close.

Summary: Due to their volatile powers and sensibilities, Loki and Elsa's respective families send them to a Midgard mental institution – part therapy/part banishment. This story will be told in the form of diary entries. I don't really have a true plot attached to this. It'll be mostly fluff and in ficlet territory. I'd love some feedback, though!

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October 12. 3 pm.

With a cool flash of light, I was here. Not here, in my room, but here, in a new land. I look different and I feel different. I no longer feel the tingling in my fingertips and my powers seem to have disappeared here. Maybe that is a blessing. My powers only proved to hurt everyone I love.

Loved.

I'll never forgive Anna for what she did, sending me here. Here, to this bustling, disgusting city. I've never seen such a filthy place. Though I suppose much has happened here in the past few weeks. Some sort of attack or something.

They knew I was coming and when I arrived, I was stripped of my Arendelle clothing and given soft pants and a small coat-like garment that closed with something called a zipper.

The food here is disgusting. I was told the lump on my plate was something called macaroni and cheese. The cheese was a bright orange hue that did not at all resemble the delicious goat cheese for which Ardenelle is famous. I ate nothing.

I've not met the others yet, having only spent this first day in my room. I was deemed well enough (?) to write with a pen and a man, who calls himself a doctor, said it might be a good idea to record my thoughts.

Recording thoughts? Recording memories? Having to put pen to paper and relive the horrors of the past few months? My parents, my lack of control, my failure. Yes, of course, this will be helpful.

I miss the tingling. The tingling meant I could actually feel something. Now, I feel nothing.

October 12, 1 pm.

Well, this is preposterous. They say I need to write. They say it will "help" me. The only help I need is a freeze everyone in place and break the hell out of here. Some simpering slip of a man came into my cell today and told me to write as a therapy. Gods, this is hell.

Maybe if they see me writing, I will get out of here more quickly. My poor excuse for a brother told me I'm not allowed back in Asgard until I can be trusted. So for now, I am stranded in FUCKING Midgard. So I'm not sure where I'll go after I leave this awful place.

It will at least give me time to plan. Perhaps I can treat this as a holiday.

The 'macaroni and cheese' they slid through the slot today was actually not too bad. It needed pepper but I enjoyed it.

I must be going crazy.

The Midgardians are laughably adorable. They have me in a white cell with a small slit of a window. There are SHIELD guards outside of my door. I'm not quite sure where I am but I know I'm still in New York. It seems like a large healing center but also a prison. I'm not quite sure what the logic is in that but Midgardians are not known for that virtue.

They told me that I start 'group therapy' in two days, whatever the fuck that is.

Perhaps I can amass a new army with the legions of the criminally insane that surround me. Their cries into the night make me feel they would make good assassins.

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Short, I know, but I just wanted to get my feet wet with this and get some feedback. I know its not much to go on but I just wanted to drop this down here!


	2. Chapter 2

One Flew Over the Bifrost Chapter 2

Thanks for the feedback! I appreciate it!

October 13, 9 pm.

Well, today was interesting. The alarm clock went off at 6 am and I slammed it off. It then went off again, nine minutes later, with a decidedly ill-toned buzzing. I may have to get another. The sun was streaming through the window in my room and I slid out of bed. I'm glad I have my own room; I'd hate to share it with a stranger. I made the bed, smoothed the white sheets and then tucked the white blanket around the sides of the mattress. I wish I could have a blue quilt or something. Anything to break up all of this white.

I wish I had a private bathroom. It's just across the hall and there only seem to be a handful of women on the floor using it but I don't like it. It smells of bleach. At least it's clean. After making the bed, I washed my face, brushed my teeth and tried to do my hair. Julie, one of the ward techs told me that showering is in the evening so I had to make do with what I could in the morning. I also wish make up was allowed here. Alas, I must rely on my regal bone structure and go au naturel.

The pants I'm forced to wear are annoying and not cute. The shoes they gave me slide off of my feet. I do like to cover my hands with the sleeves of the "hoodie." Having them covered makes me feel like they're normal again. Though I guess normal would be how my hands are now since it is DEFINITELY NOT normal to have ice shoot out of them.

After washing up, Julie escorted me down to the cafeteria and helped me get food since it is my first time there. She introduced me to a group of women who are on my floor.

"Ladies," she said, "this is Elsa. She just got here yesterday. I was hoping you could show her around?"

"Of course," a woman with black and white hair purred, "we'll show her around."

"Fantastic." Julie left.

The woman with the crazy hair twisted her mouth into a smile and patted the bench, "c'mere. You can sit next to me."

I couldn't tell if she was drunk. She seemed to be.

"I'm Cruella," she said, "this is Maleficent and Gothel."

"Gothel-as in-" I cut myself off. I knew exactly who she was. "Nice to... meet you."

"So what is your problem?" Maleficient asked pointedly-like her horns.

"I-" I stuttered. I didn't know how to respond, "I hurt people. And myself. And it's-it's complicated."

Cruella nodded, almost bored, "They dropped me in here when my love of animal abuse was uncovered."

"Child abuse." Mother Gothel murmured. "I'm psychotic." She glared at me.

"...I haven't done anything wrong." Maleficient finished, "I'm not sure why I'm here."

The other women smiled and dug into their meals quietly. I'm not sure if I want to hang out with them. I think I'll have to find another table tomorrow because lunch and dinner weren't much better with them.

They did, however, take me to a yoga class and that was actually really fun. The instructor said something about breathing which I feel like I always forget. I know you're not supposed to _remember_ to breathe but just breathing for a bit on your own is calming. I like breathing. I guess maybe this place isn't so bad. And at least in my sweatpants (my yoga instructor said they're 'yoga pants') I was able to move pretty freely. I can't wait for tomorrow's class!

After yoga I had a session with Dr. Smith. Not quite ready to write about that yet.

I then got to have some free time and found the rec room. There were men there and Cruella said they usually eat with them at the same time but today there was a workshop so the meals were different. I sat down on the couch by the TV and watched, not the screen, but the people around me. Everyone seemed friendly, very much unlike the women I had lunch with, although Cruella isn't too bad. Abusing animals is pretty awful, though.

Since I'm new I guess I was an attraction. Some men came over and introduced themselves: Rumplestiltskin and James (who was missing a right hand and, in place of it, had a hook). They seemed OK (as OK as they could be). There was also a man sulking in the corner who seemed to have taken his bedsheet and wrapped it on top of his head. Periodically he'd cry out, "I feel naked without it!"

Cruella said his name was Jafar.

We watched some TV and I welcomed it. No talking, no smiling, no faking. Just something called 'reality shows'. I could dig it.

Then, I heard a voice echoing from down the hall.

"Oh, is this playtime, then?"

I turned (actually, everyone turned) to the direction of the voice. In the rec room doorway, a tall man appeared surrounded by a group of orderlies. He was massaging his wrists as he surveyed the room, as if he'd just had handcuffs taken off. He smiled and his tongue swept across his lips quickly. Against my will, I shuddered.

"Greetings, lowly Midgardians!" He cried with his hands held out to us. His voice was smooth and booming, almost like thunder?

Cruella and Rumplestiltskin exchanged swift glances and burst into laughter. The tall man scowled and lowered his hands. He stood in the doorway and the scowl turned into a sneer.

"Overwhelmed by my presence, I know." The smile was back. He lifted his hand to his head and smoothed his black hair back.

Patrick, a nurse, gestured to the spot next to me on the couch, "Loki, why don't you take a seat and watch some TV? Everyone is watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta. It's a great show."

With a small, pained flip of his mouth, Loki followed orders and took a seat on the couch-next to me. He was silent as he and I pretended to watch the program. After a few moments, I could see that out of the corner of my eye he was looking at me. I took a breath as I braced myself for him to talk.

"Who are you?" He asked blankly.

"Elsa." I muttered and I tried to focus on the screen. It was a commercial and they were selling white nose strips that would rip out disgusting things from one's face. It looked oddly satisfying. Julie told me of a toiletries cart that came around every evening. I'd have to see if they had any strips.

"I'm Loki." He said with an edge to his voice after I didn't ask his name.

"Nice to meet you." I glanced from the TV to my hands.

He did not respond and, seemingly out of boredom, got up and left. He seems strange-and volatile. I wonder why he is here.

Lunch hit, then some crafts followed by a meditation session and then finally dinner (not ready to talk about it. Thought I would be, but I'm not.). I took a shower tonight and it helped wash dinner away (figuratively and literally). So now, I'm in my room waiting for 'lights out'.

Thanks for reading! Next chapter is Loki!


	3. Chapter 3

October 14, 3 am

Patrick, my 'nurse', said I behaved very well today. He looked surprised. I'm not sure how rotten they think I am. I will let them continue thinking I am evil. It is fun to prove them wrong. And then right. And then wrong. And right again.

I was allowed out today. Privileges for wicked old me. Exciting times to be had here; we had a workshop about anger management. Apparently a lad here by the name of Adam is in desperate need of some.

The workshop lasted from eight until nine and I took an hour-long nap, with my eyes open. (We are not allowed to sleep during the day?) I blinked out of it when the instructor banged on some sort of drum to signal the end of the session. It made me angry. Pointless workshop.

Later, I was granted some "free time". How very generous. I was ushered down to the rec room and greeted the others as one would. They were in awe of me, yes. Many of them could not even register emotion on their faces because their shock was so great. It's not everyday a god speaks to them. (Though here, sometimes it is everyday.)

I found a place on the couch next to a small creature. She was very petite, though not slight. Blonde hair in a messy plait that snaked around her shoulder and down her chest. Speaking of her chest, I estimate it to be substantial but I cannot be sure as it was covered by a zipped sweatshirt. I should like to think I am correct in my assumption.

Whoever gave her those yoga pants is a goddamned genius and I'd like to shake their hand.

She studied her hands for a curiously long amount of time and was not very friendly, almost icy in her manner. Given her small stature I think I will call her Frost Dwarf.

So Frost Dwarf is pretty fit but not very talkative—my kind of girl.

She will be my project. A challenge: crack her open and win her. I am aware of my indelicate wording.

Dinner was eventful and kept me quite amused. An unhinged old woman with frizzy hair threw a glob of mashed potatoes at Frost Dwarf because Frost Dwarf sat in the woman's seat. The other women around them shrieked and began throwing food at each other with a delightful glee (it looked like great fun).

Soon the others joined in and the chaos that ensued made me downright giddy. And I, for once, had nothing to do with it! This is just another reason I am certain these people need to be minionized.

The hapless staff descended upon the scene and it took a good quarter of an hour to diffuse the pandemonium. In the melee Frost Dwarf had successfully crawled across the floor and ended up hiding under my table.

"Look at what you started." I pointed out, "tsk, tsk. You should be ashamed and inherently know the social hierarchy of this mental institution."

She lifted her eyebrow as far as it would go into her forehead (which was startlingly far) signaling her disenchantment at my comment. _Somehow_ through all of my wit and _charm_, I have not won her yet. Am I going to have to _try?_ Agh, almost not worth it but it would definitely help the time go by faster here.

I slid off the chair, dodged a bowl of creamed corn and joined her under the table. I sat cross-legged across from her and it was very uncomfortable; I had to hunch down because of the table's low clearance. I was really trying with this one.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

She looked at me and a pork chop flew into her lap. She threw it back.

"I came here because I cannot control myself."

Perfect. This girl is perfect.

"And I am a danger to myself and those around me," she continued sadly, killing the mood, "I promised my sister I would get better."

"Siblings are overrated."

"They most certainly are not," she countered immediately, "not when they are all you have."

I ignored her tragic backstory. "I'm responsible for the attack on New York."

A look of sheer amazement passed over her face, "that was you? Julie's niece had her leg amputated because of it!"

"Who's Julie?"

"My tech," Frost Dwarf pretended not to like me, "she checks on me every morning."

"Yeah, well, that was me."

"How nice."

"So Rumple over there," I nodded my head in the imp's direction, "he's got his spindly little hands on some firewhisky. Care to join us all later?"

"What? After lights out?"

"Of course."

"Don't they lock doors?"

"Of course."

"And you can get out?"

"These mortal holding devices are not complex."

She asked a few more stupid questions that I chose to ignore. Instead, I studied her eye:s bright blue, staying with that ice theme. A nice color, if bit frigid. Ha.

She ultimately declined my gracious invitation and I promised her I would get her pissed before the week's end. I think she might've misinterpreted my words. Many people seem to have this problem when conversing with me.

The staff calmed everyone and sent us all back to our rooms. Frost Dwarf was very quick to jump out from under the table and trot back to her room. I didn't mind the view from behind her.

After the lights went out at 10, I snuck out of my room and met up with Adam and Rumple in the laundry room. We broke out the whiskey. They're not bad. Rumple is like me. Adam—not so much. He's good—just angry. Rumple on the other hand, well, we have very similar motives. He could prove to be a powerful ally.

Ah, well, off to bed to dream of my little Frost Dwarf.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks so much for feedback. I actually really enjoy this story and I have high hopes for the now-birthed plot. Keep reading and reviewing!

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October 14, 11:30 pm

I think group therapy will be the death of me. I don't see how I can get anything out of it. The counselor sat amongst all of us but no one seemed to focus, no one seemed to want to be there. How can anything get done? How can I get back to Anna if I don't get better?

Loki, Adam and Rumple looked worse for the wear after their night of drinking as they came into the counsel room. Our group therapy session was right after breakfast and none of them seemed ready to function. Rumple pinched the bridge of his nose. Adam pulled his legs up onto the chair and tried to avoid the florescent strip lighting by burying his face into his knees. Loki did not wear his usual leather garb today. Instead he wore simple black pants with a dark grey sweatshirt. His eyes peered out from under the hood that was pulled far over his head. He sat down next to me. I glanced over in his direction but the hood obscured him from me.

"All right," John, the counselor started, "let's begin. Today we're going to focus on things we want and things we need. There is a big difference between the two. Now, who wants to start? Cruella?"

"What?" She looked SO angry.

"What is something you want?" John iterated in a calm voice.

"To be sleeping." She answered immediately.

I took some time to study her. She had dark, purple circles that hung under her eyes. She looked drawn and her eyes were redder than usual. Her hair was not teased out but hung lifelessly past her ears. Was she hung over too?

I glanced at Maleficient. She looked greener than usual and had her head in her hand. I glanced at Gothel. She glared at me. Well, that wasn't any change. She did look tired, though.

And then it dawned on me: I was the only one in the ward last night who'd gone to sleep and had NOT gone drinking in Rumple's room. I was also the only one who apparently didn't feel like death.

And John noticed that, too.

"Elsa," he said. I braced myself, "what is something you want?"

"I want…" I began but trailed off, "I want to—"

I stopped myself and thought. I focused on John's chair. It was curved, orange and had little wheels on the bottom. The base needed to be shined.

"Elsa?" He asked encouragingly.

"I want to get back home." I stated.

"Good." He said, "and why do you want to get back home?"

"I need to be with my sister."

"Good," He said again, "siblings can be an enormous wealth of support when—"

Loki interrupted John with a barking laugh from inside of his hood.

"Ah, yes, they're _always_ so supportive." He jeered.

"Loki," John's voice was even, "we're focused on Elsa right now and then we'll get to you."

"Ah yes, the poor little dear," he spat, "can't deal with life outside the castle."

"Don't pretend you know me!" I cried.

"Now let's –" John tried to stop us but it was too late.

"I don't pretend, princess," Loki's eyes flashed, "I know exactly what your kind is: Spoiled, spineless and shallow. Your biggest problem is a broken nail or a cold cup of tea and you can't deal with it."

I could not believe this guy. I seethed with a rage that I hadn't felt in a long time. If my powers had worked, he would've been incased in a block of thick ice. There was no use in putting my hands out to him because nothing would've happened but it didn't stop the reflexive action of wanting to do it and my hands trembled. I balled them into fists.

"You're an asshole." I said plainly, "You have no idea of what I've gone through. Don't presume to know me."

"Oh, princess—" he tried again with a huff.

"I'm not a princess." I seethed.

"Oh no?" He crossed his arms and looked bored.

"I am a queen."

I saw his face go from blasé to startled in a split second before he wiped all emotion from it completely. I stood.

"And what I _need_," I continued, staring him down, "is to get back to my kingdom. Surely, as a _prince_, you can relate to that."

"Great, Elsa," John interceded, "that's great. You want to be back home with your sister and you need to get back to ruling. Keep those goals in mind as we go through this. You can't call Loki an asshole, though, so we'll work on that. Loki, what do you want?"

I sat back down and listened to him. Loki slid the hood off of his head to reveal his pale, haggard appearance. It was ghastly, if you ask me—grotesque, at worst.

"I want," he hissed, "to take back what is rightfully mine. I want to rule Asgard as its king. I want to prove to my father I am worthy. I want to demonstrate my actual power to all of the morons who surround me."

"Why do you crave power, Loki?" John asked simply.

"I believe I am a worthy leader and power is owed to me."

I couldn't help but laugh. Loki turned to me and tilted his head like a cobra contemplating his prey, though I was not about to allow myself to be eaten.

"Oh, Your Majesty," he purred mockingly, "How could you find humor in what I've said? Does truth make you giddy with nervousness?"

"Oh, no," I countered, "not at all. I find it amusing that you could feel that something is owed to you in this life. Those that rule should never be blinded with the pursuit of power. We must see it as a privilege bestowed upon us. We must see ourselves as servants to our people. We have a duty to our citizens to guide them and lead them, not control them."

"How cute." He said liltingly, "I'm sure your realm is all hearts and stars and flowers."

"Now, Loki," John said, "we must be open to what others are expressing. Elsa has expressed herself in a calm and clear manner. You must acknowledge that."

"I cannot be open to the risible filth that spews from her mouth."

"I think you can." John said, "just listen. You don't have to agree but you don't have to insult, either. Just listen."

"She called me an asshole."

"And it was wrong of her to do that." John said, "Elsa, please apologize to Loki."

"I'm sorry for calling you an asshole."

Loki opened his mouth for the last word but after a moment of contemplation he closed it. He then turned to me with a cool green glare. I held his glare and threw an icy one right back at him. We stayed like that for the rest of the session, neither one of us pulling away. At the end, I was so angry that I was shaking. As he left, he had a smug smirk on his face. I scowled as I realized he'd gotten the better of me in that staring contest. I need to avoid him at all costs in order to get out of here in a timely fashion.

October 14, 11:59 pm

MEWLING QUIM.


	5. Chapter 5

October 16, 1 am.

My therapist said it would be helpful to me if I write down what happened in the cafeteria a few nights ago. So here goes…

Gothel knows who I am. And that's not to say no one here knows each other—there are quite a lot of people who seem to have been friends in their lives on the 'outside'. The fact is, with Gothel, is that we were never friends. We never even actually met. But she somehow knows who I am. Somehow she found the letters and the small trinkets I sent to Rapunzel. Perhaps when Rapunzel broke out was when she found them.

I didn't know it was my cousin who was my penpal. If I'd known, my parents surely would've intervened and Rapunzel would've been spared years of isolation and abuse. But I'd found a portal in my bedroom—I'd only heard of them in legend. It seemed, as fate would have it, Rapunzel had one in her tower as well. We started exchanging merely objects to see if the portal would work. And it did. I then put a note to see who had been giving me pieces of chalk and corners of book pages.

So, out of mutual, forced imprisonment, we forged a bond that kept us both alive. Alive and hopeful. We would share our deepest, darkest thoughts, without ever knowing each other. We drew self-portraits and sent them to each other. We exchanged gifts of thimbles, tassels and buttons.

And Rapunzel eventually found her happy ending.

And I am here.

The incident with the food fight was nothing compared to today. I was sitting in the rec room watching "Shahs of Sunset" when her bony hand seized my shoulder. I hadn't had time to react and I found a jagged piece of plastic at my throat. She'd stolen a plate from lunch and had managed to break it. The point cut into my skin.

"You meddling little bitch," she seethed into my ear. Her breath was acrid.

"You put thoughts into her mind," she continued, "you brainwashed my girl. My sweet, innocent girl. You took her from me!"

I said nothing, bracing for the plate fragment to pierce my neck.

"YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!" Gothel screamed and she gave herself away.

I felt the plate drag across my throat, catching skin as it went. But it wasn't her doing; another, stronger hand had enveloped hers and had drawn it away from me. I gasped and fell to the floor and she was pulled from me with a shriek. I pressed my fingers to my neck—it was merely—and luckily—only a scratch.

There was a heavy haze of adrenaline over my eyes as the scene unfolded in front of me: Loki had both hands around Gothel's throat. Her awful shrieking was now transformed into guttural struggles. Orderlies rushed over and, as they knocked over the television, wrenched Loki from the hag. Another orderly produced a syringe and applied it to Gothel's arm. She was carted away promptly.

Loki, however, wrestled with the aides and threw Patrick against the couch. The nurse quickly rebounded and also jabbed a needle into Loki's thrashing arm. Loki stopped struggling and his body grew limp, and was caught by waiting hands. His eyes, though, were still alert and they locked with mine. Anger? Fear? Triumph? I couldn't tell. The orderlies lifted him and carried him off to a secure cell.

He did not return for dinner.

Everyone was very curious about my connection with Gothel. Everyone was absolutely fascinated by my rescuer.

I tried to eat in silence and refused a late-night firewhisky binge with the others.

Instead, I crept down the hall. It was the wing of the hospital I had not been to before. It was, like the others, watched in shifts and I planned my journey around that. I also brought a wire from the TV when it had collapsed with a spark during the tussle.

My feet padded across the scrubbed linoleum until I came upon his room. A low green safety light glowed throughout the hallway and into the cell. He was curled up on the bed with his hood over his eyes. I worked silently with the wire in the keyhole and before long the lock popped. The sounded echoed suddenly through the hall. I held my breath and waited. No sounds. No alarms. No jangling of keys that usually signal an orderly is on his way.

There was an energy flowing from my hands that I nearly mistook as ice. But it wasn't so. Just nervousness. I turned the door handle and, with a swift step, was in the cell.

I expected him to jump or yell but I only saw a shift of his head so that his green eyes peered at me from under the hood. Without a sound, I advanced toward him and dared to sit at the edge of the cot.

I found my chest rising with some difficulty—the air was thick.

"Thank you." I barely recognized my voice.

No answer.

"I—I—she—"

"Stop."

"I mean, I meant—"

"No. Stop."

"If you hadn't—"

"_Stop._" He spat.

I stopped.

His movements were feline as he pulled his hood back and crawled toward me on the cot. I was still and the only sound between us was my quick breath. He placed himself directly in front of me as he slid his hand up my neck, across the sore scratch, and to my cheek. I reflexively closed my eyes for a moment before realizing I should keep them open for my own safety.

His eyes flashed with hunger and he pressed his lips to mine fiercely. I pulled back with surprise and, through the green light, found that his skin had taken on a decidedly blue hue.

"You're—you're-your skin." I stammered like an idiot, "you're blue."

"And so are you."


End file.
